


Joined At The Hip

by BraveKate



Series: Shadowhunters Femslash Oneshots [2]
Category: Shadowhunters (TV), The Mortal Instruments Series - Cassandra Clare
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Background Clary Fray/Jace Wayland, Background Magnus Bane/Alec Lightwood, Brother-Sister Relationships, Explicit Language, F/F, Feel-good, Fluff and Humor, Happy, Hospitals, Medical Procedures, Meet-Cute, WTF - Where's The Femslash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-25
Updated: 2017-03-25
Packaged: 2018-10-10 16:39:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,725
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10442337
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BraveKate/pseuds/BraveKate
Summary: The cliché slams into Izzy like a cartoon piano pancaking the shit out of some chirpy anthropomorphic animal. Next to her stands a fairy goddess warrior princess person. In a fucking Brazilian jiu-jitsu gi top. With a purple duffel thrown over her shoulder. Like it’s not a big deal at all.OR: Izzy meets her soulmate on the subway.





	

**Author's Note:**

> It started out with a kiss (cute soulmate!AU oneshot) how did it end up like this (a medical procedural sitcom with family).
> 
>  
> 
> **Important note: they all have amazing government-issued health insurance in this AU :D**

The cliché slams into Izzy like a cartoon piano pancaking the shit out of some chirpy anthropomorphic animal. Izzy, unsuspecting just moments prior, maneuvered through a cluster of those charming people who do not get off at the next stop _or_ the next stop, but stay by the doors anyway. She docked in the middle of the car, like a normal Homo sapiens, took her Kindle out of the backpack. The taste of some long-awaited non-anatomy-related reading was almost bursting on her tongue. Before full submersion, though, a routine must be performed. Izzy squashed the bag to her side with an elbow for security reasons and raised her head to perv-scan the surroundings. That’s all she’s able to do before her whole line of vision fills with black-and-white keyboard coming down at an alarming speed (yes, the piano is falling legs up in this scenario).

Next to Izzy stands a fairy goddess warrior princess person. In a fucking Brazilian jiu-jitsu gi top. With a purple duffel thrown over her shoulder. Like it’s not a big deal at all.

The girl’s elegant fingers are wrapped around the handrail, and that handrail is probably crying on the inside, it’s so grateful for the honor. Her skin is darker than Izzy’s own light brown. Her hair is a glorious gravity-defying cloud of black curls. It frames her beautiful face and underlines the high cheekbones. Her jaw is chiseled; her neck — long and graceful, and the anterior sternoclavicular area it dives into, visible in the kimono’s v neckline, makes Izzy literally salivate. She gulps.

While Izzy’s lungs try to reintroduce themselves to the concept of air, her sleep-deprived brain lists all the things that are _of course_ wrong with its owner right now.

She hasn’t slept for more than four hours a night in a week. The same week she hasn’t gotten around to washing her hair for. God bless all the dry shampoo people. She is breaking out all over thanks to a pair of active ovaries. She’s wearing Alec’s old _old_ t-shirt, for Christ’s sake! Because laundry takes time! Of which there’s none! Due to finals! Her bar for quality of life is really low at the moment. Like, “expectancy for racist uncle to behave at a family reunion” low.

At least Mom instilled good posture in all her kids so deep, it doesn’t matter how tired they are, it always looks like there’s a stick shoved very far up an orifice. Maybe Fairy Warrior Princess can glance over and think, wow. This smarmy goblin surely has a very. Straight back? Or something.

The train starts, gently nudging everyone inside to imitate waving seaweed with their whole bodies (to various degrees of success and gracefulness). Izzy manages pretty well with her farsighted wide stance and aforementioned good posture, thanks, Mom. She peeps over at Fairy Warrior Princess with secret hope she witnessed the whole thing and is now impressed.

In an unexpected turn of events, the Fairy Warrior Princes has twisted slightly and is, indeed, looking back.

A renegade hair falls into Izzy’s eyes to say hi (and to remind that it hasn’t seen any running water in a while), just to be blown away in haste. Then Izzy smiles, almost against her will. The level of charm, she’s sure, is that of Harry grinning at Cho and having whatever-it-was spill down his chin. But the girl smiles, too. There are adorable not-quite-dimples under the round apples of her cheeks. Her front teeth are also, somehow, adorable.

 _How about you immediately forget every conversation opener you’ve ever learned_ , suggests Izzy’s good old frenemy, brain. _Actually, forget human speech in its entirety while you’re at it, just to be safe._

The girl’s dark brown eyes, warm and giant, go from Izzy’s face somewhere down (dear any deity available, please make the t-shirt she’s wearing one of Alec’s Plain Originals™, and not the kind he later stole from Magnus, with some weird slogan still discernable) and back.

“Crazy coincidence,” Fairy Warrior Princess says in a friendly velveteen voice, “I just finished that.”

Three whole seconds pass before Izzy gets what she’s on about. The Kindle! More precisely, the drab Moby Dick scene on screen, destined to be re-scrolled back up.

“I really don’t like it,” she breathes out without thinking. “It’s boring.”

“Why keep going then?”

“I always finish what I started,” Izzy answers, attempting to speak from her chest. “And it beats reading about tracheotomy for the -nth time.”

“Oh, a future medical professional,” the girl mock-leers in a kinda-maybe-please-be flirty way. “Perhaps you’ll save my life one day.”

“Probably not, I’m going to be a pathologist.” Crickets. Outrun those motherfuckers. “Your gi is very cute!”

 _Oh yeah_ , the brain declares with a glee of an annoying YouTube commentator, _the legend has it, Isabelle Lightwood used to have wit and charisma!_

And she does. Just not PMS-ing during finals.

Fairy Warrior Princess giggles, which brings some divine illumination down on the grimy, scratched and tagged to all hell train car. She, slightly taller, leans in close in a conspiratory manner.

“To tell you the truth, I’ve spilt green juice all over my crop top after training. That’s why I’m half geared up. But this is my good uniform,” her dark cherry smirk tilts to the side, dragging Izzy’s stare along. “So I knew it’ll bring me luck. Like grab attention of a cute girl, for example.”

Izzy sighs (in a chocolate commercial kinda way). Okay, she said there’s no time, but. But! There’s always time for following a spark! She says:

“I’m easy.”

“And I’m Maia.”

The train halts to a stop, and it would not be that big of a deal.

Except.

So, Izzy is clutching the same handrail Maia is, right, the one above the seats. But while Maia has her hand on a vertical part midway, Izzy grips the crossbar overhead. She was sort of looking at the new acquaintance from over her right arm this whole time. And, distracted by the situation as she was, the upcoming stop escaped her notice. Her wider stance, meanwhile, morphed into some coy Daisy Duck bullshit. As a result, when the car jerks, the triceps brachii part of Izzy’s raised arm collides with the side of Maia’s expressive forehead. At the same time, she has to take a quick sidestep towards the girl, which brings their thighs from knee up into direct contact. Izzy’s skirt’s a mini; so are Maia’s shorts.

Skin meets skin.

It feels immediately like kindergarten in a sense of playing with glue. When you coat your fingers with it, and it dries a little and becomes tacky? And you press your fingers together? They stick; any attempts to tear them apart for funsies pull at the skin before giving way. The feeling is exactly like that, but on steroids. It’s also very warm. And tingly.

And there’s no give.

From up close, Maia smells of floral shower gel and menthol. Izzy inhales it, somewhat distracted, while her heart’s trying to make Freddy Mercury proud and break free. The girl attempts to move her leg, and it takes Izzy’s thigh with it. Izzy’s platform gladly glides alongside Maia’s snicker on the floor. Which looks amazing bee-tee-dubs, like a tango step almost.

This is one of the key moments in Isabelle Lightwood’s life, no matter the outcome. It’s hard to process the sheer enormity of the occasion. The circumstances are so mundane... Breaking out of the dreamy haze, Izzy just wants to turn around properly and at least greet her _soulmate_ in a more coherent manner. But life.

“Ow-ow-ow!” Maia says. Izzy feels the vibrations of those whines enter her hand through the girl’s head.

 _Your elbow is stuck to her temple, dummy,_ the brain kindly supplies. Then, randomly: _you met your soulmate on a day you wore hair ties with plastic daisies on them._

An old woman looks up from her seat, noticing their situation, and croons, all adorable-d out:

“Aw, congratulations, young ladies!”

It gets public attention. One of the annoying doorway hoggers starts applauding, and the others quickly join in. Izzy hopes nobody’s filming, because if this intensely private thing of theirs goes Facebook viral or becomes an ooey gooey Buzzfeed article, she’ll cut a bitch.

“I’ll help you hide the body,” Maia answers from what sounds like gritted teeth, and Izzy realizes she a) said that last thing out loud and b) is enamored just like that.

Seriously, score. Even if the old woman is less impressed after, what does she know.

***

Theirs is not the worst situation. Neither physically nor psychologically. Izzy understands that.

For example, Jace caught Clary’s right hook with his stupid smug face (which Izzy loves, of course). He did not expect the punch and went down hard, taking Clary with him, until they both landed in a pile of sprains and dislocations. That was one beautiful piece of performance art with colorful swears for soundtrack. Clary’s drawing hand adorned Jace’s cheek and nose _for an entire week_. Unusually extensive week full of government-mandated settling sessions plus several private ones, paid for by the parents. It all worked out in the end, but Clary lost multiple commissions and had to skip an important con, while Jace had to give up patients and got saddled with restorative rhinoplasty after the whole ordeal.

Besides, there was a reason they got Stuck in a fight.

So while Izzy and Maia wait on a bench next to a watchful subway worker for an ambulance to come get them, Izzy tries to relax. At least they were friendly from the get-go and even flirted a little.

Doesn’t matter that her hand starts to tremble and fill up with pain in an effort of keeping its weight off of her soulmate’s head. She has to prevent that long and graceful neck from hurting instead, after all. Doesn’t matter that Izzy’s kind of worried about Maia’s face being so close to her armpit. Sure, she’s using a super strong “for men” deodorant, been doing it since living in ancestral home alongside her brothers during high school. That’s when she discovered it’s way more effective than most “girly” analogues. Stains less, too — sexism who. Anyhow, she’s using the deodorant, but the weather’s been hot these past few days. And with all the stress… sweating is just a thing alive people do, okay?! Also, the clothes! They’ll have to be cut off. Alec’s shirt Izzy can sacrifice, she’s got spares aplenty, but the skirt? It’s handmade, upcycled from two pairs of old jeans, it’s cute. 

…Oh well. At least Maia’s lucky gi is safe. And with the elevated position, Izzy’s hand will probably go numb soon anyway.

For now, she can still feel Maia’s springy curls gently prickling her skin, and it’s a pleasant, soothing feeling. Adhered areas do not itch or burn; rather, they radiate gentle warmth akin to that of a hug. Maia’s taller, so her knee was higher when the thing happened, which translates into her sitting slightly behind, closer to the wall. Like this, it’s just easier to hook an ankle around hers for comfort. Skin glides on skin smoothly, despite the grainy two-day stubble. A neon orange snicker taps against Izzy’s platform sandal, teasing. 

Maia, in quick succession, called her workplace, her best friend Gretel, and is talking to her mom now. The girl's facing away, but her calm voice radiates assurance. Maia’s mom seems to be offering advice, so that’s good.

Izzy, on the other hand, isn’t calling anyone, because she knows exactly how this is going to play out.

Later, in the ambulance, Maia taps around on her smartphone for some time. Izzy observes as she opens the frontal camera, stretches her arm out, and adjusts the angle, until they’re able to lock eyes on screen.

They look slightly distorted and plenty ridiculous. And absolutely amazing. Izzy’s lungs kick the air out again, even if the sun beams just behind Maia’s shoulder and resulting flare obscures most of the image.

***

“We’re getting the hang of it!” Izzy laughs. It’s the most delightful sound. There’s an impact to it, invisible force.

Maia could listen for hours, before dissolving in its chime.

She squeezes her arm tighter around Izzy’s tantalizingly slender middle under translucent pretense of grip adjustment. Which is, the nurse placed it there! Just two minutes ago! After extracting them from the ambulance and measuring her new patients with A Look. She then asked, mildly interested:

“Bus or subway?”

And started a crash course on walking, so they can move around the hospital without causing further damage. It’s all very Three-Legged Race. Izzy’s having the time of her life though, and her demeanor is very infectious. Maia sure is enjoying the hell out of herself. Even their harassed-looking instructor manages a smile, obviously treating this as a well-deserved break from ER.

They enter the hospital lobby autonomously, proud and red-faced from giggling, flanked by their nurse. It’s the New York Institute Medical Center — Izzy requested they be brought here, and Maia kind of figured it’s the closest decent one. Izzy’s a future M.D., she would know, right?

Admittance is swift because there has to be an urgent (but standard procedure) brain scan for every newly bonded couple. Or so Izzy says.

“What’s your full name?” Maia asks gently once they are assisted onto a gurney and left alone. It’s in a curtained-out area of the emergency department.

Maia, luckily, has never had to visit one before. This part of the hospital is both more chaotic and less fussy than she expected. Looks like a stock photo, all clean, light, and airbrushed, smells like drugs and chemicals. And it’s cooler here compared to the almost-summer outside. The thick curtains around them carry inoffensive geometrical pattern in beige. They sit sideways to all the floor traffic and are swinging their feet in a synchronized seesaw rhythm. The movement almost feels anxious on Izzy’s part, that’s why Maia’s trying to distract her with questions.

“Isabelle. Isabelle Lightwood.”

“I’m Maia Roberts, nice to meet you.” She maneuvers her left hand for an unconventional shake. Her gel claws are short, but fresh, and she’s silently grateful for Gretel and her salon hopping addiction. Izzy’s definitely the type to pay attention to such details, even if her own manicure is a chipped emo chic right now — what’s a student to do. “I’m a bartender and a musician. Plan on going back to school next year.”

She’s not sure, but it feels like Izzy’s maybe gifting her with a smile. That sweet, open smile from the subway. Except for some strands, the girl’s straight black hair is double French-braded up and away from her face, opening its lovely shape — a smile looks so natural there.

“I thought you were a Fairy Warrior Princess at first,” Izzy shares, mock-shy. She’s very close, and this conversation is starting to get that calming yet weirdly arousing ASMR effect.

“Nah,” Maia can’t help but bark out a laugh. “I would be a werewolf if anything.”

“Yeah… yeah, I can see that. It’s hot.”

Sudden rattle of rings announces the curtain being jerked away. The “appropriately trained nurse will be with you shortly” is shortly with them. Except there’s nothing short about the guy. He’s lemniscate feet tall and is clad in horrendously drab olive scrubs. A medical cart wheels in behind him. Maia can feel Izzy go rigid.

“Good afternoon, welcome to New York Institute Medical Center, I’m Nurse Alec and I’m trained in bond handling, I will be taking care of you today.” Not even a pause to breathe. His head flies up from the clipboard. “Bus or subway,” he not-asks, echoing their earlier handler.

“Wow, does this happen that often?” Maia can’t help but wonder.

“You would be surprised.”

“And here I hoped for an original story to tell my kids. It’s subway. What else is common?”

“Anastomosis manus,” Izzy sighs beside her. The guy nods and adds: “Handshaking culture, you see. All the finger and wrist traumas. It’s the inertia when you try to pull apart. We’ve already had one case today,” then, without switching: “Would you like a state-issued mediator or a law enforcement officer immediately present for the proceedings?” After Maia and Izzy both deny the offer, Nurse Alec ticks something off of his clipboard, sets it on the cart and starts gloving up. With some creepy blue gloves. It takes four seconds and a couple of theatrical snap!-s. His comforting monotone never ceases. “Do either of you experience any of the following symptoms: nausea.” No. “Dizziness.” No. “Headache.” No. “Sharp pain, unrelated to your current body position.”

A-a-and — no. The guy seems satisfied as he steps closer, armed with a sleek looking pen torch.

“I will now take your vitals and perform a preliminary exam, including palpating your lymph nodes. Miss Roberts, what would you say your aspirations in life are?” Again, no switch. Maia’s mouth opens to answer, but then her brain catches up, and nothing comes out. The gurney is high, but this nurse is a true giant and still has to bend his knees somewhat to see into Maia’s eyes. “Please, follow the light.”

Between being almost blinded by the sharp LED, getting her temperature taken, and having to open up wide for the wooden tongue depressor (which always tastes like the conclusion of a popsicle minus the fun part), Maia decides it’s one of those “who’s the president now” questions. She moos some vague polite answer about going back to school to become a marine biologist.

“School is always good,” Nurse Alec politely agrees. “I’m going to touch your neck now.”

His fingers are professional and swift, warm through the latex. The brief pressure doesn’t hurt at all. It _must_ be a good sign. He quickly switches to Izzy, mainly repeating the routine, but paying more attention to her shoulder where he fussed over Maia’s head. Both of them seem to be doing fine. Maia’s so distracted by the resulting relief that when there’s suddenly an iPhone in her face she’s lost again.

“Wha-,” she manages.

“Don’t worry, I won’t be sharing anything online. It’s exclusively for the family archive. I’ll delete it later if the circumstances demand it.”

Nurse Alec, who’s filming horizontally like a good citizen, does what seems to be a panoramic swipe from her to Izzy. Who’s weirdly complacent?

“Excuse me?!” Maia’s in shock. As always in such cases, she thinks about Mom and channels her righteous spirit, the latest words of love and reassurance still fresh from their earlier phone call. “I’m pretty sure this is unethical!”

While the guy finishes filming and, now gloves-free, starts typing (blessedly unaware of how close he is to getting kicked), Izzy sighs. She’s aiming to side-peer into Maia’s face but keep her hand static at the same time, so Maia’s worried for her spinal integrity.

“Oh, did I not mention? My whole family is in medicine. Both parents are on the Institute’s board. In fact, this one’s my eldest brother.” She points. Nurse Alec raises a hand to salute blindly. “He’s actually a Head Nurse Practitioner here. Brother-in-law’s the Head of Pediatrics. Other brother’s a surgeon. Even his soulmate is in medical and scientific illustration. It’s a low-cholesterol trap. Sorry.”

“Oh.” Well. That makes sense. Maia can probably maybe even see the resemblance. With the strong eyebrow game and round doe eyes and all. Except Izzy is human-sized. Perfectly tall to fit Maia like a missing puzzle piece.

Nurse Alec hides the phone and looks at them with blank intensity. It’s probably not blank; Maia just can’t read it yet. _Yet_ , oh god. She’s trying hard not to think far ahead, but. This is a person who’s potentially going to be in her life. For a long time. Through her SOULMATE. 

“I’m not going to congratulate you until your mandatory evaluation session is done and over with,” he declares seriously, “but I want you to know that I’m here for you. For you _both_. Be it together, or separately.”

Thank god, her soulmate’s family seems sane and in possession of strong work ethic. So far. It’s the bare minimum and should be default, but in reality it’s… not. So Maia’s low-key touched. 

Izzy outstretches the free hand towards her brother as he steps closer, clasping her slender fingers in his. They share a moment, and Maia wishes again she could see the girl’s eyes. They’re probably so warm right now.

“We’ll give you a removable brace to rest the hand on. I need to take measurements,” Nurse Alec says while, by the look of it, carefully tucking a lock of hair behind his sister’s ear. Then he tries to talk more to the pair of them, not just her: “Also, I’ll get elastic bandages in case you guys will want to bind your ankles together. Several couples found it aids walking. Some aspirin, maybe, to improve Izzy’s blood flow, depends on those scan results.” And once more out of the blue and with same exact expression: “Heads up. Incoming.”

“Knock-knock,” says the surrounding curtain seconds later.

The noise level here is pretty high, but slightly on the ambient side. It doesn’t distract from the conversation, but masks any steps under a homogenous pitter-patter. Though it’s easy to imagine it’s quite different when someone flatlines or there’s an influx of patients.

The Asian guy that enters after Izzy’s permission, Maia deducts (well, inducts, actually, Conan Doyle can suck it), is the pediatric brother-in-law. Under a white doctor robe his scrubs are pink and patterned with sly-looking elephants. The surgical cap on his head is not glittery, but the fabric print imitates the texture.

Newcomer skulks immediately to Nurse Alec’s side (and gets dwarfed by comparison) to check out the parts where the newly bonded couple is adhered. The interest comes off equal parts professional, friendly, and childish. He holds back the ends of the stethoscope around his neck with the same gesture long-haired people hold their hair with.

“Bus or subway?”

So, this is going to be a thing.

“Subway.”

“Aw-w-w, my poor petals,” he concludes, finally, in a cooing voice, before making a “meh” face and stepping away. “You’ll be fine, though.”

Yeah, Maia sees where he’s, no doubt, not only good with kids, but also good _for_ them. Nurse Alec throws a look of fond exasperation his way before approaching Izzy with measuring tape.

“Wow, thanks, Magnus. You’re such a good doctor.” Izzy’s mock-skeptical. “I know for a fact you haven’t had more sleep than me this past week, how are you so rosy, I hate you.”

Now that Maia looks closer, following her soulmate’s words, the man has a very masterfully made-up face with highlighter to die for. There’s a certain theatrical air about him as he straightens and adjusts his robe’s lapels. 

“I am, indeed, a great doctor, my dear, and I’ve done particularly well for myself today,” he demonstrates one Moana and two Marceline the Vampire Queen stickers applied to his chest with a lopsided precision. “I’m Magnus. Magnus Bane.”

“Maia Roberts.”

“Terribly sorry, but I simply had to come meet you after receiving Alec’s text,” he explains, all sincerity, as they shake hands. “And see how Isabelle’s doing, of course.”

“Of course,” is Izzy’s poisonous reply. Maia gathers from this that the two are pretty great friends.

“As I am free — more free than Alec — at the moment, I’ll accompany you to your scan and the mediator session after, if you don’t mind. But there are other staffers available,” Magnus suggests. He looks like he’s completely fine with either answer.

Maia’s foot is being nudged gently, and Izzy asks:

“Do we mind?”

No, they don’t.

“Don’t fidget,” Nurse Alec scolds, tape looped around his sister’s head. “I’ll need your clothing sizes. Magnus, jot those down, please. And the-” 

“Got it.” Magnus already looks over the clipboard, crossing, ticking, and writing their answers down. “All done. Seems good, let’s go.”

For a moment, Nurse Alec appears extremely anxious and unsure, like he doesn’t want them to leave and is going over some mental list for reasons to prevent that. Maia gets it: this is his sister, after all. He’s probably painfully aware of every little thing that could go wrong. Maia is also very happy to see that her soulmate is loved, protected, appreciated. 

Then the guy realizes he’ll forget all those measurements if they won’t get written down somewhere and goes for the clipboard, just as Magnus pulls the curtain back open.

She and her soulmate do not require any assistance getting down from the gurney, and Maia’s disproportionately proud of the fact. Even if they almost drag a disposable paper sheet stuck to the back of their thighs behind them.

***

Grandma Roberts always, as long as Maia remembers, said that finding one’s soulmate is not a happy ending but, rather, a lucky head start. “You put the work in like any other time,” she explained, waving a wooden sauce spoon around, “but this time you know there’s a good chance of making it. There’s an advantage. The universe itself is playing in your favor.”

And, like a decent person, Maia always put the work in with all her previous girlfriends. She had some great times in most her relationships up until this point. But it sure as hell would be nice to have the whole universe working along and rooting for you. Because when those honest attempts fail, it sucks. In fact, Maia just finished her customary pizza-and-cupcakes Post-Breakup Extravaganza this past month. On Gretel’s couch and under her watchful eye. But she’s not discouraged. A bit of luck is all she needs to try again. It’ll make all the difference. It’ll make the potential sucky parts worth it.

Because Maia really _really_ likes Izzy already, and they decided to try out dating after the “being Stuck together” part. Pretty enthusiastically on both sides, too. Which is wonderful news. And the bond hasn’t even kicked in — not to mention settled — yet!

“Congratulations,” their mediator lady says with a dreamy sigh after all the logistics are smoothed out and they’ve signed the initial paperwork. “I wish all my appointments would go as well as yours.”

She has a round vanity mirror on the table between her and her visitors exactly for these situations. Maia smiles at Izzy through the reflection. They are in their quickly-becoming-customary arrangement: ankles hooked together; one of Maia’s hands around Izzy, the other — clasped in her free one. Izzy bites her dark pink lower lip, and then looks down shyly as she brings Maia’s hand to her mouth for a chaste kiss to the knuckles.

Which, for the record, is fucking adorable. And Maia can’t help but make a squee-like noise. That is not a full-blown squee. Totally not.

“The bond should start flaring up tomorrow. Please, contact both me and your bond handler when that happens,” the mediator says, holding her office doors open for them. “We can talk about blockers then. Otherwise, good luck!”

And while Izzy’s thanking the woman, Maia is. Well. Going crazy, she’s pretty sure. Maybe that scan did lie. Because there’s Blonde Jock #2 (the “three tequila shots and a beer” one) standing in the hallway. In the flesh. He’s exactly as smarmy and fake-Brando looking in the light of day as he is in the bar’s neons. With his leather jacket and self-absorbed stubbled face. Gretel once joked he’s “two thousand eight hot” and it made Maia’s week. 

“What the fuck,” she asks no one in particular, and Izzy switches her attention before calling out happily: “Jace!”

Blonde Jock #2 turns from his conversation with Magnus and waves at them. And immediately goes pale with recognition.

“You!” He and Maia gasp in perfect unison.

It’s not that they hate each other, precisely. By now it’s more fondness than anything. It’s just… There might have being some poorly aimed darts and very well aimed lime juice splashes. Some lies about STDs to dates while their companion took a bathroom break. And tips in fake joke shop money. A fried cricket in the peanut basket. Or two. Three, tops. But all that — mostly — at the very beginning of the two-year-long acquaintance. So — in the past. Again, mostly.

“What’s going on here?” Magnus asks as his wards get closer. Jace looks at him, round-eyed, pointing frantically:

“It’s the Creeptastic Bartender!”

“You shut up, Blonde Jock #2.”

“I can’t believe I suffer all that abuse and I’m not even the only _or_ the first one?!”

“Oh, believe me, you are the one and only.”

“Jace’s my other brother,” Izzy explains, cool as a cucumber, stopping a shrug of her tan shoulders just in time. “It’s amazing you know each other already! What are the odds, huh? Well. Pretty high, I guess. This city is way too fucking small.”

“Great. Now I’m forever stuck with your eye-rolls at every holiday dinner? You’ll spit-infuse not only my Friday night beer, but my Thanksgiving beer too?”

“What makes you think I’ll serve you beer outside of a professional setting? For free?”

Jace’s nostrils flare, akin to an unsettled horse, and Maia gives as good as she gets with her skeptical eyebrow. Luckily, Magnus interrupts them:

“Children, children, settle down! Back on track. Now, how did it go, you two?”

Izzy pretty obviously suppresses an urge to jump in excitement — her leg moves, making Maia’s whole pelvis shift. It’s hard to believe she walks on platforms that high, much less jumps wearing them. She’s a hidden menace, this girl. There’s a Star Wars pun in there somewhere.

“We’re dating,” she declares, sending Maia’s heart into little summersaults.

Magnus was half-hiding inside an empty examination room, peering into the hallway, and the reason becomes apparent when he steps out fully and reveals a tasteful bouquet of white camellias, traditional bonding flowers. His face and voice are radiant when he says: “Congratulations, I’m so happy for you!” And carefully side-hugs Izzy plus a half of Maia by extension, before kissing his sister-in-law’s cheek. Jace follows the example and almost squishes the flowers.

“Ew,” Maia says, when he pats her back. “I can’t believe you’re a life-saving surgeon.”

“Izzy, you should definitely cook dinner for your new girlfriend to mark the occasion,” he declares, and gets smacked for the trouble. There’s something lost between the lines, Maia can tell. “Have you decided on a residence?”

Izzy demonstrates their copy of preliminary bonding contract with the mediator’s number in red sharpie scribbled at the top, while Maia explains:

“Yeah, we’ll stay with my Grandma in Queens, she has the right vibe there. The perfect balance of old-fashioned romanticism and chaperoning. And enough space. She's already expecting us.”

Jace nods. “Good. I’ll drive. Just got off shift.”

“I would take you,” Magnus apologizes, “but my lunch break is so very over.”

“Oh my god, you spent your whole lunch break with us? Have you even eaten anything?”

“Jace brought down some cafeteria food for me, worry not. Speaking of, we should really go finish your appointment with Alexander. I know it doesn’t look like it, but he’s beside himself.”

That gets Maia’s attention.

“Wow! You guys get emotional transference?”

“Not only that,” Magnus beams, unashamedly proud, “but olfactory transference, too, _and_ a sense of location.”

“That’s pretty rare! Awesome!”

“It really is, isn’t it?” 

“How did you get Stuck?”

They slowly start towards elevators, Magnus leading the way. Jace is making death faces by his side, clearly tired of the story, but it’s very new for Maia and right now, at least, she can so-o-o relate. 

“Ah, this whole situation makes me so nostalgic. Flirting casually for half a year before even touching hands with Alexander while passing over a chart...” Magnus sighs. “Classic. He realized what was going on before I did and literally dove after my grip to save my delicate surgeon hands. Such chivalry. I had no chance.”

He wiggles his slender fingers through the air. Maia remembers Nurse Alec’s earlier comments on traumas and winces in sympathy.

“We’ve being Stuck for three days, same as Maryse and Robert. That is,” Magnus explains to Maia with an elegant gesture as they spill into an elevator, “Izzy’s parents.”

“It’s why I’m coming with to check out your Grandma’s digs,” Jace boasts with obvious aim to annoy. “Stuck time’s often genetic, and you won’t be able to hold it in for half a week. We don’t want you injuring yourselves while peeing, do we?”

“Jace!” Izzy chastises, smacking him again, and he quickly retreats the attitude to add:

“No, for real, that’s no joke! I’ll have to see if you’ll need any houseware aids. They have those bathtub ones and those other, toilet ones, depends on the space. We’ll come later in the evening to install them.”

There is a colorful variety of urban legends circulating around at any given time about couples and triads getting into wonky situations while Stuck. The death rate is not high, but higher than Maia initially suspected. She’s grateful for modern healthcare and social services, because as recent as just fifty years ago she and Izzy would’ve been told to suck it up and eaten by a bear later on. In a field while trying to pee. Or, more probable, arrested for indecent exposure by some non-sympathetic cop.

“Also,” Jace adds, “bus or subway? No one told me.”

Maia performs the mother of all eyerolls at that when the elevator announces their arrival.

Back in the ER, Nurse Alec has several interns baby-ducking him. He abandons them with the catheter he’s been aiming at somebody’s… somewhere, and comes over straight away for a hug. Handsfree. Those he holds away because of the gloves. So all in all, it’s more of a full-body high five. Maia pats his side and guesses the flowers gave away their good news.

“Congratulations! I’ll be right with you, just let me finish here.”

Magnus and Jace quickly decide that between the two of them they are qualified enough to put Izzy in a contraption that’s waiting on the familiar gurney. They’re encouraging each other like kids trying to push one another to break the rules. Along with checking behind the curtain for Nurse Alec’s progress. A lot.

“If you won’t do it, we’ll do it ourselves,” Izzy states, firm, and Maia wholeheartedly agrees, even if the fussiness was amusing to witness.

The orthosis is basically a spine extension with a brace on top, and it has multiple needles stabilizing it. It also has knapsack-like unclipping straps for Izzy to put the thing on, crisscrossing ones at the back for support, and the last one that closes just under her chest. Maia would give a lot to check out that Lara Croft action without public and the current limitations to her head. She’ll probably get a chance to do so at Grandma’s tomorrow morning. They’ll be alone more likely than not: the orthosis is easy to put on, Maia didn’t get poked in the eye or elbowed in the nose at all while guys helped just now.

“Oh holy sweet Jesus,” Izzy says, relieved, relaxing her arm. Maia wishes the girl would put some weight on her head for the duration of their mediator session, but she refused. Obviously, the poor limb hurt a lot by now.

“Better?” Maia whispers, petting her knee.

“Much.”

“Oh, good, it fits,” Nurse Alec says upon entering. “How is it? Wiggle around some. Needs any tinkering? Now stand up and walk a little, please. Maia, tell me if there’s any excessive or just additional pressure anywhere at all.”

They stomp around until the giggling picks back up, at which point Alec stops them to mildly adjust some screws.

“Yeah, Maia, you’re wearing a cervical collar,” he declares sternly while at it. “I’m sorry, it’s not an option. There’s no reason to risk your neck. It’s removable, though.”

And while Izzy catches her brother up on their plans, Jace puts a stiff puffy collar on Maia with unnecessary glee. The comfort of the thing is debatable, but it’s light and feels secure, so she doesn’t complain. In the end, Jace, Magnus, and Nurse Alec all step back to review the results with critical eyes. The latter huffs and starts rambling. It’s calm and collected and authoritative, but it’s definitely rambling.

“Your scan results are capital-n normal. Still, better safe than sorry. I’ll draft up an exercise regimen to prevent any damage to the limb. You’ll still have to be back for massage sessions every day. We’ll provide you with care packages. Button-up shirts, pants, and underwear are included in those, alongside some informative brochures and a list of emergency contacts.”

His gaze drifts a bit to the ceiling. Magnus’s looking at his husband with quiet encouragement; all “get it out of your system, love”. They seem very… paternal.

“I recommend you do not bend over, run, jump or enter tight spaces like tubs or closets for the whole time you’re Stuck together. You’ll also have to wear the same or equal height shoes you have on now, least you risk seriously injuring your legs, hips, or backs. Um. What else. Let’s see. Iz, make a list of what you need picked up from the apartment. We’ll come over later to help with the clothes and to figure out the sleeping arrangements-”

“Aha-ha, rest assured,” Jace interrupts, “sleeping will _not_ be fun.”

“And no funny business,” is Nurse Alec’s clumsy conclusion to the speech. Magnus winces at the wording and tries to clarify, but Jace jumps in before he can:

“He doesn’t mean sex, he literally means-”

“Don’t randomly join any roller derby competitions or try to stop a robbery again.”

Maia doesn’t think she’ll run into another robbery any time soon, and- wait, what.

“What?!” She squeaks simultaneously with Izzy. But she can’t help it! Because Izzy! And roller-derby! The mental image’s so vivid, it negates her desire to punch the smugness off of Jace’s face as he drawls: 

“Oh, my, my, my. Just you wait. You’ll love dating each other.”

***

It’s so very-very quiet, and it feels like a well-deserved break. Izzy is sleep-deprived and exhausted, and the pillow, the soft sheets all smell of lavender, attempting to lure her in. Still, her brain is a tangled mess that just won’t quit. All the thoughts are running through it, tumbling over each other.

Mom is already planning a joint family dinner for the next time she’s back in town from Washington. Grandma Roberts washed the soles of Izzy’s shoes so she could wear them inside, completely humbling her. Izzy’s hand is fixed to the headboard with another orthosis, and there are two chairs moved face first to the bed so that Izzy and Maia’s feet don’t hang from the matrass. Jace was right, sleeping is shaping out to be torture. But Maia’s story about breaking a hip at age six and having to sleep in one position with her leg literally suspended in the air provides some perspective. They managed to save the cute denim skirt by way of just… not taking it off at all. It’s restricting to sleep in such rough material, but.

Maia is conked out. Her deep breaths tickle down Izzy’s side at even intervals. It’s akin to the waves at night, when the warm wind comes from the sea.

There’s this rose-gold warmth that starts to fizz gently inside Izzy’s head, like a sparkler, or a crystal glass filled with champagne. And she knows without any doubt that it is her soulmate’s sleeping mind growing a togetherness with hers, blooming alongside hers into a beautiful camellia. Maia feels safe and loved through _their bond_. Her dreams feel like shards of shadow puppet theatre or fleeting touches of silk to the skin in the dark. Izzy doesn’t want to catch them into full focus, contented to bask in a simple fact of their mere presence.

With her left arm, she picks a mirror from her side table, where the bouquet rests in its vase, and lifts it up high. Maia’s face is hidden in thick blue bedroom shadows, but Izzy can already tell where each feature should be and is.

“Hello, soulmate,” she whispers under her breath. “I’m so happy I met you.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading my story! xoxo
> 
> Disclaimer: English's not my first language. So.
> 
> Fanart blog: **bravekate.tumblr.com**


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